Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-10-09

lis carvings OF stone and wood. its
paipted windows, which later on Ia
natical mob was destined TO destroy:
The few remaining servants stood
round, and one small, bowed figure
heavily yelled that wept in hopeless,
despairing sorrow till the last word was
spoken. 800,
81 had almost forgotten the girl,
the commander said when he and MI.
Dymock stood once more within the
castle. "Let her be brought hither
and | will speak to her."
She was no longer crying when she
stood before him, striving to follow the
STANCE language which baffied her so
often, as he exchanged words, so I'M
portant to her, with gray-hnired Mr..
Dymock. But at last one word caught
her ear, which it required DO effort to
understandings Sir Loyelace.
"You knew him." she said. in her
faltering English ; "you have seen
him ?"
And in almost equally uuintelligl6le
French the stranger told her thai ne
had known bin well years before, and
had spoken TO him but the other day
when he lay diving on Marston Moor ;
that he had told him then OF the ward
at home. under his unprotected roof
so short distance off, and had lm,
plored his services on her behalf, should
they ever be of any avail.
II seemed as if he were in doubt, as
if the solution Of the difficulty were
hard to find, for he hesitated long after
he had spoken, while he looked down
into the dark soft eyes raised to his,
watching for the word which was to or
dain what was to become OF her, and
when he spoke -
Twill marry her." he said. Then,
as if gaining confidence from his own
words" Yes, that is best.
"What," the girl interrupted, catch
ing at the minister's arm" what does
he say ?"
But her words passed unheeded.
at is the only thing to be done. No
words are necessary. No." as Mr..
Dymock would have spoken, "there are
no objections to be made Take her
away and persuade her as you will. |
will remain here till tomorrow, and
then she rides with lis rs my wife.
The cold. short sentences gave little
hope of persuading him to change.
Perhaps-who can tell ?-the tender,
soft look in those dark eyes had had
as much TO do with his determination
as his avowed reasons that ne would
render her safe under his protection,
for the sake of dead Lovelace Carew,
and thus spare her the only alterna-
tive-a convent-which his conscience
forbade. For it was that safe refuge
for which she prayed, but 1t was not a
refuge on which Mr.. Dymock was
likely to look with favor.
And vet his heart was touched, too.
II was not always OF the benefit to her
erring soul he talked; for in those long
hours during which he aud she re-
NAMED together he strove to tell hel
that John Waller was a good If stern
nan: that he had had sister no Older
than poor forlorn Felicite, and had
loved and lost her.
"He will he kind to you, am as
sured. dear child"
"And there is no one else to turn
to, she replied. "Now that Sir Love
lace is dead there is no one else.
So when the morning dawned once
again the gray-heired clergyman stood
amid the dim glories of the castle
chanel and John Waller took Felicitt
Montery to be his wife.
She rode away with the little troop o
warriors when they departed later
down the avenue Of chestnuts where
she and Sir Lovelace had often loitered
through the wood, where the carpet o
moss was as soft as when she and III
had trodden it together, and SO away
and away into new world her eye!
had never seen to the old HOMESTEAD
which was her husbands home, and
there she lived in solitary safety while
he returned to the wars.
Afterward, long afterward, it is sale
that John Waller was one OF those who
made their way with those they loyeC
across the sea to the New World. Little
Felicite doubtless accompanied him
She would not have rebelled when he
had decided, and perhaps by tha'
time-who knows ?-she had learned t.
feel happier by his side than elsewhere
II he had fulfilled all that good Mr.
Dymock had prophesied, doubtless thu
lonely, desolate heart in time turned t
him.
But knowing it not for csrtain, i
seems more likely that she lived tran
quill life, ignorant of the great maste
spell that whereas once she was TOT
Young to recognize the web while We
in weaving, so afterward she accepted
the proffered shelter under compulsion
which banished forever from her tn
happy knowledge that should have beef
hers.
This was the story to which [ listen
cd, under the summer sky in the oil
courtyard of the castle. My friend
when lie had told it, wiped his specta
cles, and there was a dimneSs III m.
own eyes that corresponded to his. Blu
we did not make any comments on it
we rose, for the sun was sinking nov
and it had become much cooler, an
pursued our way down the dusty roa
we bad trodden in the morning. Stand
ing on the slight slope that give
view Of the castle, We pause
and looked back. 1t was n
longer to us a dreary ruin, but tn
treasury OF a sad human history; owe
it all hung q tender veil which rendere
it sacred. One of us, looking bac
over his own past, which bad know
no Joys of fruition, felt a kindred sym
pathy for her who had been within
touch of happiness that had passed he
by; the other, recalling the agony c
tie parting, which, even now was unfol
gotten. yet grieved that she should nc
have known the love that no partin
can kill.
Some Ones Mother.
For the Dispatch.l